


Les yeux noirs.

by NyanPug204



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A LOT of sexually charged fighting, And Dream decides to make a move, Assassin AU, Backstory, But he knows that will change, Confident GeorgeNotFound, Dream is smug asf, Enemies that don’t know they’re crushing, Enemies to Lovers, Famcy clothes, Flirting but it’s suggestive, George swears he works alone, I got carried away sorry, I love the playlist that helped me, M/M, Quackity too, Schlatts there if you squint, Sci-fi's the word, So's Wilbur, Techno's in there he's just not in there much, They get stuck on the dance floor together, They’re both kinda drunk, They’re kinda after the same target smh, and fundy- i didnt do much with him sorry, background karlnap, can't lie im kinda proud of this, like its kind of a more modern world, no beta we die like george in manhunt, so is carrying weapons, started this on impulse I have no plan, they get angry smh, things like assassins are normal, very long backstory scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyanPug204/pseuds/NyanPug204
Summary: “You’ve been drinking.”“And so what if I have? Don’t act like you haven’t.”A small scoff left the shorter man's lips, rolling his eyes before hesitantly reaching forwards, placing his hand in the grip of the taller man, aware he may regret this soon, but what else was there to do in the remaining half an hour?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 153
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Les yeux noirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmmmm playlists gave me this idea along with another fanfic- I’m not original lol. But still it’s currently 2 am and I’m starting with no ideas, I just hope this goes okay lmao. I liked describing things here, mostly because I love the aesthetic it's very sexee.

“Oh my god.”

George let his hand slip over his face, the pale fingers covering thin pink lips, his head angled down as he took a moment to think over everything that had occurred for him to get to this point specifically. He’d taken the job, an action he now clearly regretted, and apparently someone else wanted his target dead. Someone who’d hired  _ him _ of all the people they could’ve hired.  _ Dream _ , fucking Dream. Or so he’d heard from idle talk nearby him between a brunette and a darker haired man, people he presumed were his rivals, friends, or maybe allies. George had decided that those two were certainly not very good at their job yet, he silently hoped they’d get to the day they were good enough.

Being in this business was undeniably dangerous. The amount of times George had nearly lost his life to a bullet, a knife, an explosion, drowning... you could name any violent action and George could safely admit it had happened to him, he’d even give details. Attached to George’s side, under his jacket, was a pistol. Fully loaded, all it needed was cocking and he could fire it at anyone, along with a backup knife. If Dream was here too he’d have to be extra careful, the man was identifiable by the mask he wore and the alias he went under, yet with the event they’d been thrown into a mask would be unusual to be spotted in.

The mission was exclusively undercover, taking part of a gambling event their target tended to visit after getting his paycheck. Due to that, George had to dress up for once in his life opposed to the looser clothing that allowed him to move easily. He was standing in a tight-fit suit, pitch black pants that were slightly higher waisted, deep blue shirt tucked into it with a matching black blazer covering his shoulders. His tie was black, neatly tied under his collar and tucked into place. He’d made an effort with his hair, slicking it all back into place with a few loose strands sitting over his face after breaking free from the constriction they’d been kept in for too long. His left eye a deep hazel, matching up to his hair while his right was the same rich blue as his shirt, the occasional freckle strewn across his pale face and almost scarily smooth complexion. George knew he was beautiful. He was going to take advantage of it.

George knew his plan. It was simple enough, but not so simple it was particularly predictable. All George needed was time, yet that was a fleeting thing with another group of assassins being present, all he could do was pray for the best. George let his body move, taking a glass of champagne from a large table, it felt like he was more at the most formal party ever than anything. Timed missions were the worst, all he wanted to do was get this done, not wait for his own que for an attack. He moved his hands, gently placing the newly empty glass down onto the table, careful not to push the silk of the table cloth from where it rested. A few more drinks couldn't hurt, as long as he was sober enough to safely fire a gun.

**-**

Time was nearing, half an hour or so left until his que went off, the bomb discretely planted on one of the doorways as he'd walked in, merely a distraction, if his target ended up dying as a result it just meant he got to leave sooner. George's cheeks were flushed a gentle pink, the alcohol in his system was heating up his body, he'd subtly loosened the top of his shirt, the button wasn't undone yet his tie looked less neat than it had been previously. He was leaned up against a wall, eyes stuck on the dance floor. George wasn't stupid, he knew that he was tipsy at this point, earlier he'd gone to the bathroom to check if he could still wield a gun steadily. He could remember how he'd held the gun up to the mirror, closing one eye, his hands weren't shaking and his vision was clear enough for him to put a bullet in another man or woman's head.

A flicker in George's vision caught his attention, refocusing himself on the present. Someone was approaching him, a bee-line for where he was standing. A much taller figure, certainly unique from the rest of the crowd. The man before him was six-foot-three, practically towering over his smaller frame, however the man wasn't being intentionally intimidating, or that was what George suspected. Dirty blonde hair was tied into a low ponytail, his bangs perfectly resting over his forehead, noticeably curling around his jaw. The man's eyes were green, or amber; it wasn't like George could tell the difference between the two shades. From what George could see of his face, his cheeks and face were coated in light freckles, his skin tanned with a rather distinct scar resting over his nose, the flesh a ragged pink colour standing out from the smoothness of the rest of his skin. This man was fucking  _ godlike,  _ there was only one issue, this man wore a mask. It wasn't too drastic, just a plain black covering over part of his nose, scar and lips, George hadn't seen behind it, but he could picture the rest of the scar from his knowledge of wounds. 

"Hello there, Mr. NotFound."

At that exact moment George felt all of the air rush from his lungs, an audible gasp slipping his lips. It all clicked in his head, the hushed talk, the mask, another assassin supposedly sharing the same target. It was  _ him. _ It was Dream, he knew the voice like it had been engraved into a box in the back of his head. The amount of times he'd ran into Dream during missions, how Dream knew both his real name and his alias, after a slip of his tongue.

_ The wind echoed throughout the streets, feeling the scarf loosely moving in the wind from the position it was tied in around his neck. George was on a mission, hunched over on top of a building, dark navy and black fabric wrapping his body, loose for the easier movement in case. Sometimes it didn't feel real, nothing felt real. The buildings were beautiful, towering and ginormous, large windows coating each one with warm light coming through some of them in a random pattern. Those that weren't alight reflected the darkness of the enveloping nights sky, not a single star in sight, only aircrafts passing over soundlessly; far too high for any sound to emit to where George was standing. His breath bubbled in a hot cloud of air before him, then dissipating into the frigid atmosphere as it cooled down, easily sweeping past him. The building he stood a-top of was easily twenty or so stories. Terrifying, yes, but George didn't mind the thrill. _

_ His heterochromatic eyes turned down to the road below him, the echoes of cars going past at high speeds, the occasional familiar startle of a horn occasionally making its way up. His target was simply working away in the building below him, they had no idea what was about to happen to them, their own loss of life evident. George lowered to his knees, feeling the fabric of his clothes bunch as he could feel the small amount of water leftover from the previous night's rain. The nearby river had almost been overflowing with the excess water, yet the water that had landed on roads and buildings had nearly dried completely, the strange weather patterns of their city shining through. He leaned back slightly, rearing from the edge with a soft scoff. He might as well let himself finish the job he'd been set, one of the only solo workers in his band of assassins. He had a reputation to uphold.  _

_ George rose to a standing position, ignoring the mist that lay over the buildings, turning his frame back to enter the door that led into the stairwell. Some designs in architecture didn't affect the way stairs were used and such, while they were very outdated they were the most efficient way of getting people to the roof. For whatever reason they wanted to be up there. A mask laid over George's face, just covering his lower face and extending down his neck, a loose scarf tied over his neck with a hood lifted over the rest of his features. He also had pale goggles resting on top of his hair, that he hadn't bothered fixing, they were round, white and had black lenses. It was scuffed, barely enough to properly hide him, but it was rare for a target to actually make it out alive and assassinations were so common, for the time, that no one would be able to remember.  _

_ George's frame moved throughout the building, hand moving up as he pressed his knuckles flush against the cold wood of the door about three times before lowering his hand to his side. If he was to murder someone he might as well keep the property nice. A few moments later, a man, much taller than him, greeted the door. Pale skin, similar to his own with brown curls falling down the side of his face and resting there, a beanie - a rather outdated hat - rested atop of his head. The man had brown eyes and surprisingly nice features, George couldn't exactly focus on that, and it didn't matter. All that mattered was that this wasn't his target. _

_ "I'm guessing you're here for Techno?" _

_ Well, this man was British too, they shared something in common. He decided not to mention it and simply nodded, if he knew that George was here for Techno, then his target may be aware after all. It was good to know that the person he'd been instructed to kill was self aware that someone would try to kill him, most were completely arrogant to their own actions. The man before him tilted his head a little, his eyes noticeably darkening before his hand shot into his pocket, bringing up a dagger with him. The man slashed for George's face, the smaller brits instincts saved him as he lifted his left arm, blocking the blow with a clang as the blade collided with the metal encasing his wrists. He knew wrist braces were a good fucking idea. With his right hand he reached for his pocket, aware it was his non-dominant hand, but it was the best chance he had of defending himself.  _

_ George reflected the weight from his arm back off onto the weapon the other was holding, quickly flipping his own knife in his hand. He pushed the male up against the wood of the door, knife flush against his neck. "Just tell me where he is, stay out of it, and I won't cut your throat to bits right now." George's voice was surprisingly low, he knew he could be intimidating, but looking back on it.. damn. And he wasn't bluffing. _

_ The man hesitated, seemingly thinking his actions through before letting the knife he was holding slip from his hand, the metal clattering against the tiles of the floor. George didn't move, he was waiting, and sure enough it happened. The taller brit lifted his hands up, placing them both on the back of his neck. A sign of surrender. That was easier than expected, he'd have to keep his focus on both Techno and this man. He pulled back slowly, lowering the blade and walking himself away to the room Techno was in, pulling the fabric around his neck up a little over his face. _

_ "Okay then, lets-" _

"Dance, George." 

George's memories faded and mixed with what the man before him was saying, he presumed he was asking to dance with the last half of his sentence, a hand outstretched before him. Dream was wearing gloves, plain back glove with the fingers removed, showing the occasional scars littering them. His other hand was behind his back, his torso subtly bent forwards, like he was some kind of royalty asking the person they were interested in for their hand. Hah. George took a moment to fully study Dreams outfit, an eyebrow quirking up at what he saw. A plain back suit, the shirt underneath unbuttoned a few buttons, showing the tanned skin underneath, a ragged pale scar resting on Dreams chest, just peeking out over his left collarbone. Jesus. How many scars did this man have? Dream wasn't wearing a tie or anything, if he had been then it was long gone, most likely strewn across the floor somewhere. It was clear to George that Dream was under the influence just like he was, the man's green- amber -eyes were glazed over and the familiar smell of expensive champagne resting in the air surrounding them. 

"You've been drinking."

"And so what if I have? Don't act like you haven't."

A small scoff left the shorter man's lips, rolling his eyes before hesitantly reaching forwards, placing his hand in the grip of the taller man, aware he may regret this soon, but what else was there to do in the remaining half an hour? Might as well out-dance his rival, George was confident in his dancing skills, he could do this. Dream rose to his feet completely, his grip around George's small, slim hand a lot more gentle than the latter had expected. This wasn't how Dream was like, gentle, ever. George had witnessed most of the man's missions first hand, the way Dream could throw someone against a wall with one hand, grip their neck, keep them there... hunch over them and- George stopped himself immediately, where the hell was  _ that _ going? Dream was his rival. He couldn't be thinking like that about him, god. He couldn't admit he was stronger.  _ Yeah, because that's what you were thinking, George. _

George pushed his thoughts down, merely gasping as Dream pulled his frame forwards, effortlessly.  _ Holy shit. _ Shut up. George was light, that was how the other man could pull him forwards so easily, and he'd been taken off guard, it wasn't because Dream was strong, and it most  _ certainly _ not because George wanted him to be rough, fully aware he could take it. Jesus, he decided it was just the alcohol messing with his mind, definitely the drinks, he should've stopped with them much much earlier. Oh well, what could he do now anyway? 

"Wow, I wasn't expecting you to accept, how many drinks have you had?"

The smirk and smug tone was evident in Dreams voice, the inclining of the others neck subtly upwards caught George’s attention, the tanned, scarred skin laying over his throat. It took so much for George not to lift his blade and swipe it along the flesh just under the other’s Adams apple. He could imagine the muscle suddenly being exposed, crimson liquid spilling as he  _ finally _ won this dumb little competition between him and Dream, he’d revel in the victory, yet ignore the void of no longer having a true rival. One to chase, fight,  _ obsess _ over. God he’d miss it.

“Like.. three? Just fuck off.”

Venom laced George’s words, eliciting a chuckle from his rival, one he rather loudly scoffed at. Before he was even conscious of what was happening his shoes were tapping against the smooth wooden grains upon the dance floor. By now he was standing in the middle of the dark oak floor, Dream's hand grasping his as the two men stood, staring at each other. There was something in the others eyes, this dark predoraty glint in his eyes, watching each of George’s movements. Everything: the subtle rise and fall of George’s chest, the pink flush the alcohol has risen to his cheeks, the deep brown of one eye and the vibrant blue of the other, and finally how small George’s hand seemed in Dream’s grasp, how it would be so easy for Dream to just snap it. 

Dream’s free hand wrapped itself along George’s hip, tugging the smaller frame closer until - if Dream didn’t have the mask - he would’ve been able to feel the other man’s breath on his face. George nearly let a whimper slip his lips, yet he held his tongue in his mouth, if he’d let that happen he would’ve never lived it down, it would be constant torture and teasing from Dream. That would’ve severely sucked. His hand lifted with Dream’s, his body being pushed around until his back was up against the taller man’s, the others chin pressing onto his shoulder. It only took George a moment to realise there was no backing out, Dream’s grip was bound to leave bruises.  _ Bastard. _

_ George forced his head back, narrowly dodging another knife thrown his way. How many knives did this fucker have? By this point he’d met Technoblade, his target, who’d instantly thrown a knife in his direction. The same action had continued for about ten minutes, George had no idea how many were thrown, but it was pissing him the hell off.  _

_ Techno had matched his description surprisingly well, a tall man - perhaps a few inches smaller than the man he’d met earlier. He had long-ish pink hair, about his middle back, tied in a braid that led down to a ponytail with his bangs clearly over his face. The man was quite muscular, though his clothing hid it quite a bit, for a target of an assassination Techno gave off quite a royal aura, he seemed far too formal and eloquent for someone who was apparently needed to be dead, but why was George even surprised? Techno had golden glasses pushed down his nose, his eyes narrow and a deep crimson colour, blood, danger. There were a few scars littered around his face, the most noticeable one laying near his left eye, narrowly dodging the eye, so it remained undamaged. A deep red cloak lay around his shoulders, clasped together with a golden broach, a white lining along the collar, George had no idea why the other would wear this, it was quite outdated at this point. Oh well. He couldn’t stop Techno from wearing what he wanted, it wouldn’t matter soon. _

_ From what George could see, Techno had a more modern looking shirt underneath the cloak, white with the collar nicely ironed down, fully buttoned up with the sleeves quite loose, he almost seemed like he’d come straight from medieval times. The other had a belt around his waist, George presumed for holding weapons and such, that was a common thing for people to have. Techno wore simple black pants and shoes, George wasn’t going to pay much attention down there anyway, he needed to focus on the others movements more than anything. It had taken George a moment to realise, but the other man's ears were elongated, many different golden piercings looped through, some dangly, others studs and some loops, how many piercings could one fit? Along with the unnatural ears, Techno had tusks, small, but they poked from his bottom lip. George found it interesting, he’d never been sent on a mission with a target like this. _

_ He’d still finish the mission. Nothing would stop him. _

_ George narrowed his eyes, moving and gripping one of the golden daggers that was lodged into the door frame, observing the metal work for a moment. It wasn’t too soft of a metal, steel most likely, a mix of iron and other metals. The handle was golden, jewels encrusted along the hilt, deep rubies glistening in the dim light of the apartment. He lifted the weapon resting in his left hand, he may as well use the outdated weaponry that was being literally thrown towards him. His eyes darkened as he stepped to the side, another dagger being produced and thrown in his direction via Techno.  _

_ “Surprised you’re still here in one piece.” Techno’s voice was surprisingly monotone, practically no emotion shining through his tone, only a shed of amusement reaching the deepness of the man’s voice. _

_ “Same goes for you, how many fuckin’ knives do you have?” George replied, his accent shining through his words as a smirk curled up his lips when Techno’s hands moved, searching for more daggers yet finding none.  _

_ A curt laugh left his thin lips, George knew that if the other was out of weapons for the time being he held a massive advantage. However, his expression fell as Techno drew a sword, the light silver metal reflecting in the low light, the handle the same gold encrusted with rubies. Who even fucking used swords these days?! George shook it off, he’d been in worse situations. His frame shot forwards, lifting his right wrist in case Techno slashed down at him, wrist braces would help here a shocking amount. _

_ A crash from outside the room forced George to jump, the door opening shortly afterwards. This could be bad, he didn’t know who was about to be at the door. It could be the man he’d pinned against the door earlier coming to help Techno, his breath hitching in his throat as he turned back, Techno seemed to pause too. _

_ “Oh? Wasn’t expecting to find this.” _

_ George nearly lost it at that exact moment. He knew the logo resting on the man's clothing, another guild, this man was an assassin. A tall, attractive assassin. One he didn’t know, that was surprising, he thought he knew most of them at this point. _

A soft gasp was forced through George’s lips as his frame was tugged forwards once again, his lips mere inches from where Dreams would be. The taller male seemed to notice this, pausing for a moment before lifting a hand from George’s hips, lifting it slowly. George’s eyes widened once it clicked in his head exactly what the other was doing, he didn’t stop him. Dream hooked a finger into his mask, tugging the fabric loop off of his ear, tugging the mask down and away painfully slow. Now Dream was completely exposed before him. Completely.

All of George’s blood rose to his face, the subtle pink that had been shining there turned to pure heat across his cheeks. He could feel his blood burning with a newfound fire in his stomach, he remained there completely shocked for a moment, letting his brain process the new emotions and sensations rushing through his body with this reveal. Dream was  _ stunning.  _ No, that was a fucking understatement.

Dream's jaw was a perfect shape, clenched from the nerves of taking his mask away for George, they were still merely inches away from each other, lips so close to touching, breath shared. There were freckles strewn along the others face, if not interrupted by one of the scars that lay upon his face. He was correct about one laying over his nose, yet there was another scar that hadn’t been visible, resting on his cheek and breaking through the tanned complexion, connecting to the scar along his nose like it was designed to. His eyes were locked onto the amber - green, he knew they were green - eyes, then slipping down to look directly at the man above him’s lips. He almost groaned, rather suddenly pushing himself back a little from Dream, in retaliation he was spun again, so his back was pressed against Dream’s chest, the same position he’d been forced into before. 

The sound the motion ripped from George’s lips should not have happened, yet it did, the groan that almost slipped into moan terrority. Dream noticeably froze at this before a chuckle, soon erupting into wheezing laughter left him, his nails digging into George’s waist. George swore he was going to either pass out or ram his fist into Dream’s nose. The other was pissing him off, purely for laughing at his reaction. 

“Too much for little Georgie?”

Dream’s lips were grazing his ear, his tone deep as he spoke, sparking the fire inside of George further, he didn’t want the flames to encase him, the fuel provided by  _ Dream. _ Everything he did added kindling to the pile of logs, only prompting it to burn longer, George was afraid of when Dream would add more than just kindling to the flames. Would he get burnt?

“It’s not too much  _ asshole _ , you have no idea how much I really could handle.”

George felt Dream’s form stiffen, the fingers against his hips digging further in, almost like they wanted to draw a reaction from the smaller man. Instead Dream was greeted with a heel against his foot, causing him to jolt but not back away. Dream let a smooth chuckle slip his lips, and George felt the weight near his ear shift so the taller man’s lips were pressing against his neck, resting himself there near the pale pulse point. His heart started beating in his ears, he was sure Dream could feel the sudden speed of his heart, mostly from the small laugh that left him.

“ _ I want to find out. _ ”

That was it. George couldn’t take it. With all of his strength he pushed himself away from Dream, yet the taller man seemed to have been expecting it, moving his hands against George's hips to ensure he’d spin. George gasped softly as Dream’s strong hand interlocked with his again, squeezing it before allowing his other tanned hand to rest against the slim waist of the smaller man. They really were dancing. George couldn’t do anything to stop Dream as his hand slid to the small of his back, the taller man took a step forwards so George was forced back, their faces inches apart again. What could George do in this situation? Nothing, just stare up into the others eyes, this wouldn’t last long. Time was ticking after all.

_ “Wha- who the hell are you?!” George’s voice slipped his lips before he could stop himself, eyes scanning over the figure with a slight glare. No one ever sent two people after the same target if the assassins themselves didn’t know about it, or that was what George had presumed. He knew it was possible, but it had never happened to him until that day. He didn’t know it yet, but it was going to happen to him a lot more than it should. The man chuckled but did not respond to him, Techno was also frozen in his spot, so George took the moment to quickly scan along the newcomers appearance. _

_ He was definitely an assassin, what seemed to be a yellow, or green, cloak resting across his shoulders and ending at about his ankles, the hood pulled up over his head. The most striking thing about his appearance was the mask, the white ceramic laying over his face with a crudely drawn smile emoticon in what George presumed was ink. The clasps keeping the cloak stuck to his shoulders were plain and black, smoothly fixing into the armour over his chest, the dark material seemed to connect up to his mask over his neck to completely seal his privacy. All George could draw from his actual appearance was that he was tall, muscular and had a few dirty blonde curls sticking out from behind the mask and near the back of his hood.  _

_ A belt lay around his waist, the same black as the fabric over his chest and it didn’t take long for George to notice his pants were the same. Embroidered on the side of the cloak was the symbol he was unfamiliar with, seemingly ram horns just there, he was sure if he had more time to think he could pinpoint the exact guild this man was from, but he decided not to think about it for the time being. The man’s arms were concealed by the light fabric of the cloak, if he was holding a weapon he would have no idea what it was or how to defend from it. That was probably the point. _

_ The man’s expression and emotions were unclear, so George presumed he was smug over the situation they were in, even if he didn’t have the upper hand. Something about that thought pissed George off.  _

_ “You can call me Dream, now get off of my target.”  _

_ George nearly made a noise at the sudden shift in the man's tone, how his tone had turned deeper and smoother, most likely in an attempt to intimidate. He cleared his throat slightly before looking up at the man, Dream, and pushing his wrist brace up to make sure Techno’s blade was no longer resting on the brace. He kept his eyes locked on the other before tilting his head back, not breaking his gaze as he grinned behind the fabric over his lips, he could try to be intimidating back at least. _

_ “You mean  _ _ my _ _ target? No way.” _

_ George let his voice stay calm, despite the spike in nervousness being around the masked assassin gave him. He could hear another chuckle come from behind the mask, Dream took a step forward, lifting his hand up past the cloak, George was immediately a little thrown off. Dream had fingerless gloves on, encasing his palms but showing the tanned flesh and how calloused it was, how much work he’d done with them was clear. They were so different from George's hands too, his were pale, petite with the occasional freckle strewn across the flesh.  _

_ “Hah, cute, what's your name?” _

_ “404NotFound.. Why does it matter? I’m sure you knew me anyway-” _

_ “No no, your  _ _ name _ _.” _

_ George froze nearly immediately, he wasn’t about to admit his name to this stranger, names held power that he was not willing to hand over yet, his expression darkened before taking a step back. He should be focusing on Techno, that was his target, he was the reason why he’d gotten into this. He needed to- he needed to. _

_ It all happened far too quickly, Dreams frame snapping forward as George made a weak attempt to block with the brace on his wrist, but for once his reflexes had failed him. Dream must’ve had a knife, George could tell, mostly thanks to the blade pressed firmly against his throat, a strong hand pressed against his back and dipping him down slightly, to make sure he couldn’t move. It was much like a dance, especially with how George’s leg lifted a little on instinct, his eyes widening as the shock of the situation set in. He couldn’t see behind the smooth porcelain, but he could feel the smug aura coming from Dreams frame, he could sense the smirk sitting on invisible lips. The blade gently pressed into the flesh on his throat, he could tell it had drawn blood.  _

_ “This isn’t going to make me give you my name-” _

_ George started, but was forced into silence as the blade was pushed a bit more into his neck, prompting him to flinch quite noticeably. Dream must be strong, keeping him up with one hand and forcing his weight onto it, a low sound left George’s lips, one of discomfort. Later the wound would sting like all hell, but that was a later problem and George wasn’t about to beg the assassin to stop. That would be like giving himself in, expressing weakness, and this was clearly a battle of strength.  _

_ “Tell me.. And I won't cut your pretty throat to shreds.” _

_ George felt a shiver run through his body, it was eerily close to the words he’d said to Techno’s defender before leaving him. What goes around comes around, he guessed. George knew he could get out of this situation quite easily if he tried, yet he knew physically he was a lot weaker than this man, he also had a knife up to his throat, literally slowly cutting the flesh. Panic was bubbling in Georges stomach as time started dwindling, his breathing quickening, along with the pace of his heart before he blurted out, _

_ “George! Okay, now get the fuck off of me you fucking-” _

_ Dream cut George off by letting go of him, the smaller man fell to the ground, hand moving up to the fabric over his neck, cautiously running over the small tear and meek amount of blood leaking from the wound. Wouldn’t scar, but it would leave a noticeable mark for a while. He turned to glance behind him, Techno was gone. A chuckle came from Dream, but by the time he looked back at him the masked man was gone. _

_ George should’ve known he’d regret taking the fucking mission. _

George could see Dream eyeing his neck, he was confused at first before it clicked in his head. He was looking to see if the wound from so long ago had scarred.  _ Sadistic fuck.  _ Something about Dream's action caused a wave of confidence to shoot through his body, a grin quickly forming on his lips before he forced it back down into his passive-aggressive expression of neutrality. He craned his neck slightly, showing that there was no scar left on his skin, still white like porcelain. The taller man’s eyes sharpened once he noticed, his head dipping until George could feel his breath against his ear, a shiver wracking through his body, they’d been dipped for far too long, someone would stare at them eventually. But something in George wanted them to see, just so he could show how little of a shit he gave.

“You need to be put back in your place, George, you’re such a brat.”

Nothing could’ve prepared George for that, the smoothness of Dream’s voice with the underlying tones of possessiveness, hunger, and something George did not want to admit he heard. There was no way this was actually happening, he was under Dream’s grasp, Dream’s  _ control.  _ The lack of control from himself dragged his mind down, he was supposed to keep the situations under his grasp, he was older than the taller man, more experienced in his work too, but with every interaction Dream claimed another part of the chess board they’d set out. While George thought he controlled the centre Dream had his knight out in a way George would never anticipate to attack, he’d just see it as defending. That was the flaw in George’s strategy, he couldn’t predict Dream like he could with everyone else. So he was extremely vulnerable to get checked mate.

“Fuck off-”

“Hold your tongue for once, come on now.”

George felt his whole body freeze in Dreams grasp, it didn’t last too long as he was finally tugged up to his feet. A gasp left his lungs, before he knew it he was spun again, the familiar pressure of Dream’s chest up against his back, the grip too firm for him to break free. His head craned to the side slightly, catching glimpse of his target before promptly shifting to a clock upon the wall. Holy shit. They had three minutes left. He instinctively tried to wiggle his way from Dream’s strong hands, nearly making a sound as the grip on his waist tightened, a short wheeze leaving the man behind him, he could feel his fingers brushing against his hips before returning to the place they kept the firm hold.

“What’s the rush Georgie?”

George was so going to punch him the second he could, even if a dark pit in his mind told him to be pliable in Dream’s grasp, to give in, to let himself fall victim to his own twisted desires with his  _ enemy. _ He paused for a moment to weigh his options out, allowing the scenarios to run through his mind, settling on the best one he could come up with the time dwindling dangerously low. His hands shifted, laying over Dreams, he pushed his head up to rest the back of his head on Dream’s shoulder, smirking as the other noticeably stiffened behind him, his grip weakening. George knew he was attractive, he planned on using it against someone eventually, he just didn’t realise it would work on his rival. 

“Let me go, Dream.”

It was a simple request, George revelled in the way Dreams grasp did noticeably loosen more, the taller man’s breath hitched and the confidence shot directly to his head. He stayed in the same position for just a moment, letting out a long breath before elbowing Dream directly in the gut. They both weren’t wearing anything particularly protective, so it wasn’t a surprise to George as Dream retreated, his hands contracting over his own stomach as a smirk broke out over George's face. That had worked far too well in his favour, he should’ve picked up on the signs that Dream would’ve taken a liking to that sooner.

George’s body shot forwards quickly, making his way past people and out of the other assassins sight, he didn’t intend on fucking this mission up thanks to Dream. This wasn’t going to be like the first time they’d met. He quickly made his way to close enough proximity to his target, his eyes scanning over the male and his friends around him, making mental notes of who could be who in the situation, all he knew was his target was big in the business market.

The man was taller than him, he swore everyone was at this point, at about six-foot-three on first glance, noticeable ram horns sprouting from the upper sides of his head, curling around and resting near his ears, slightly curling around them. He had dark-ish brown hair, leading into side burns down the side of his face, his pupils side-ways and much like a rams, his eyes themselves were a red colour that George hadn’t seen on a person before, he didn’t question. The man’s ears were like a rams too, a golden hoop resting in one of them, everything about him spoke  _ expensive.  _ A glass of red wine in his hand, the bottle in the other, from what George could see it certainly wasn’t cheap. His clothing was simple, an expensive looking black suit, a pin of what seemed to be a flag along with a symbol with horns over his-  _ oh.  _ George wasn’t assassinating some business man, he was assassinating the rival guilds leader, or at least one of them, but it seemed to be the top man. 

Then everything clicked in his head properly, Dream wasn’t here to kill his target, Dream was here to  _ protect _ his target, that was why he seemed so attached to him, he was trying to keep him distracted from what he was paid to do. That pissed George off, and only drove him to kill this man even more. After his and Dream’s first meeting he’d promptly researched into the guild the man belonged to, gathering that his target must now be the Jonathan Schlatt, leader of Schlatt and co, along with the guild Dream belonged to. He was dealing with both a business man and a guild leader. Everything was starting to get very very interesting quickly.

His eyes locked onto the man next to him, an eyebrow quirking up as he realised this was the only person actually shorter than him, and he gave off an entirely different aura that Schlatt gave. He kept the power hungry feeling, the same expensive looking suit, but a beanie on his head that George never thought he’d see in such a formal situation. The beanie itself was mostly blue, a red strip near the hem before it went to lighter blue, the letters ‘LAFD’ in white along the top. George just wondered  _ why _ he was even allowed it, but he seemed close to Schlatt, that was most likely the reasoning. Under the hat George could see part of his black bangs, sunglasses were pulled down his face a little, resting on the edge of his nose and everything about the man seemed smug in some way. Everything. As the man turned a little George spied two golden wings resting on his back, they weren’t that big, ending just below his hips. The suit had two tailored slots for them to fit through without any skin being shown, it was interesting.

The final person in Schlatt’s vicinity was another short man, about five-foot-eight and definitely a fox hybrid, ginger hair resting in a mess on top of his head, two fox ears with black and white tips poking out the sides of his head, he also had a matching tail of the same colours, a black and white suit much like the people surrounding him. There was an odd dusting of freckles over his cheeks, his eyes a deep brown as they rested somewhere off to the side, he seemed distracted by something,  _ someone.  _ George followed the hybrid's gaze until he saw him, Dream, making his way towards him surprisingly quickly. All of the blood drained from his body upon realisation, Dream was coming for him with the two others that had mentioned his name right from the beginning, the people he’d overheard to gain his attention.

One of the people near Dream was a dark black haired man, eyes a deeper black-blue colour under his bangs and the thin bandana around his head, he had a smirk on his face and a subtle burn scar over his cheek. He was dressed in a suit, the shirt loose and the tie discarded much like Dreams was. The other man was around the same height as the one he was stood next to, both a few inches taller than George, he had poofy brown hair, bangs resting over his face, he seemed a lot more hyper than smug or anything, his eyes blue and he was clothed in a deep purple suit, yet seemed much more casual than most people there, a golden watch on a chain strung from one of pockets, slightly open, an odd choice for someone who didn’t seem like they’d wear a watch.

George bit down on his lip, stepping back quickly and glancing at the clock,  _ one minute. _ Only one, then the show would really start, he felt a smirk appear on his lips, curling his entire face upwards, completely opposite to Dream’s expression as he approached him, the other looked completely and utterly pissed, along with somewhat amused over how George had tricked him so easily merely minutes ago. His hand found its way into his own jacket, pulling the gun from his pocket and cocking it, glancing at the clock.

Thirty seconds.

Dream was getting really close really quickly, soon he’d be in George’s personal space once again, not like it bothered George, he just needed to be able to move fast enough to be able to get his target, if he had to kill someone else in his wake, that was fine too. His eyes narrowed as Dream continued approaching, life felt like he was in slow motioned, but he knew that was the last thing that was true.

Twenty.

He kept the gun straight out in front of him, like he was to shoot Dream, but they both knew that wasn’t his intention, especially with how confidently Dream was striding towards him, it was far too early when Dream slid into his personal space, forcing George to gasp as his chin was taken into a strong, gloved hand, head tilted up to meet the intense golden gaze. Actual fear shot through him.

Ten

George could clutch this. He could  _ clutch _ this. He pushed his chin into Dream’s hand more, allowing a false smirk to overtake his features, lifting the gun until the barrel was against Dream’s forehead, the cool metal pressing against the tanned skin. He let out a small, smug laugh as he realised that Dream’s accomplices were going to protect Schlatt’s entourage and not Schlatt himself, they must have all been assigned a person to protect. Perfect.

One.

**_Boom._ **

Somewhere near the entrance of the building flung debris as the explosion set off, immediately spiking confusion amongst the masses, and most noticeably, confusion through Dream. George immediately took his chance, pulling his gun away and pushing Dream back from his shoulders, pulling away and beginning to run towards his target, laughter bubbling up through his throat as he was sure he already won, he blamed the confidence on the alcohol that he’d had so long ago at this point. His actual strategy had been used hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, so George was completely shocked that it had worked, along with being over the fucking moon. 

He lifted his gun, aiming for Schlatt’s head, the man himself was trying to move away and hide, but with the sheer chaos of the room it made it practically impossible for him to find proper protection for a few minutes at most. That was enough time for George to work if everything went smoothly,  _ if.  _

George shouldn’t have thought about the fact it could go wrong, because he swore he jinxed it as a firm pair of hands gripped his waist, startling him into the gun being knocked out of his hands, spirilling across the room and landing under a table. George yelled out, twisting himself around and before he could stop himself he was on the floor, his ass stung and there was a weight on top of him, Dream.  _ Oh shit.  _ The position was far too familiar, pinned against something with a smooth blade pushed to his throat, he was pushed via his shoulders onto the ground a moment later, one of his legs moving up to attempt to stand, but Dream’s knee was quickly jammed between his legs. Both men were breathing quite heavily, the blade steady in Dream’s hands, right above the pale flesh of George’s throat, the other hand firmly keeping the smaller man's form down.

Dream practically covered him  _ completely _ , even if the situation was dire and threatening, his target getting away, George felt his face heating up until his cheeks and ears were basically burning, all shreds of control he’d clung to were snatched by Dream in one simple motion. George hated it, or he acted like he did, really, he  _ loved _ the way they fought for power, both parties seemed to get a power trip once overpowering the other. One of George’s hands rose to grip at Dream’s shoulder, squeezing as hard as he could with merely a groan escaping the tallers lips. That only flustered George more, the heat quickly rising through his blood, pushing it towards his face and cheeks. 

“Careful now.. Wouldn’t want my hand to slip, would we  _ Georgie? _ ”

George felt his whole body freeze up at the other’s words, his lips parting to protest, only no words came out. He took in Dream’s state, they were both completely pathetic, ruined beyond their own belief. Dream’s shirt had been loosened a little more, a lot more of his tanned chest visible to George, and  _ only _ George in that moment. The taller man’s hair was falling from the ponytail in strands, falling over the amber eyes, the dark, fucking encaptivating eyes. His hand slipped slightly, pressing against Dream’s chest, subtly pushing down on his skin. George looked like a wreck too, his hair quickly becoming a mess as heavy, uneven breaths left him, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Dream-”

That one word was all he had to say before Dream’s lips came crashing down onto his, George’s free hand tangling quickly into the back of the taller man's hair. The kiss wasn’t soft, it wasn’t sweet or pure. It was fucking rough, months of unknown pining had brought it up, it was pure desire and want as Dream’s teeth sunk into George’s bottom lip, causing the smaller man to gasp, unknowingly letting the taller push his tongue into his mouth. They didn’t stop for a solid few minutes, George was losing air far too quickly, but he didn’t want it to stop. He was finally releasing for how  _ long  _ he’d wanted this to happen, far far too long.

Dream was the one to pull away, allowing George to breathe underneath him. They’d just made out on the floor of a fucking building were George was supposed to assassinate- Oh shit. George didn’t need to look around to know Schlatt was gone, he groaned, tilting his head back a little as the realisation set in, causing Dream to chuckle above him, the laugh held so much fucking confidence that if they hadn’t just sucked faces George would’ve punched him in the nose. George’s lips were red from being abused, so were Dream’s, they both looked wrecked from  _ one kiss. _ God this was going to be an interesting relationship.

“You bite, arsehole.”

“Come on now, you like it.”

“Fuck you.”

George was not assumed at Dream’s laugh for a moment, before he broke out into an unexplainable fit of giggles, tilting his head to the side and letting himself relax against the floor, they needed to get up, people were probably staring, then again he also doubted that somewhat with the recent explosion. 

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that to you, Georgie.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve  _ needed _ that.”

A surprised expression overtook Dream’s features, before George could speak again they were both giggling at each other until a comfortable silence took over the air. The blade was long gone from George’s throat, so he lifted a hand, laying it on Dream’s cheek and keeping his eyes focused towards the fucking beautiful man before him, someone he might be able to call his, even if it was merely for one night George was sure it would be the best damn night of his life. One of the taller man’s hands shifted to let go of his shoulder, taking the back of his head by his hair and tilting his head up so their lips were mere inches away once again.

George didn’t stop him, all he did was sit there and stare into the dark eyes of the man he’d been pining for for far too long. He let a smirk slip onto his lips, he couldn’t break his gaze, not until he closed his eyes and Dream leaned down, connecting their lips again in a much more gentle way.

Yeah, George could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song Les yeux noirs, Pomplamoose. I recommend listening to it because I'm in love with the song even if I can't speak french.
> 
> Okay so I'm writing this AFTER writing all of the fanfic, and oh my god I got carried away I'm sorry lmao.  
> The ending feels rushed I know, but I really wanted to get this out!
> 
> Anyhow thanks for reading lol, I need to work on my main fic,,


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